


Honesty is for Gryffindors

by Leni Jess (Leni_Jess)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: smutty_claus, F/M, Gift Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leni_Jess/pseuds/Leni%20Jess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus and Lucius know something to Hermione's disadvantage, which it would be unwise to share with her. How might a good Slytherin rescue a Gryffindor from the dilemma she doesn't know she has?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Honesty is for Gryffindors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiv5468](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiv5468/gifts).



> Written December 2011 for smutty_claus. Shiv asked for for "Slytherins have heard that honesty is the best policy, they just don't agree. How does this work out in bed/relationships?" I'm not sure I explored it as fully as I might… but I hope readers also enjoy Salazar Slytherin's Sayings of the Day.
> 
> Thanks to my beta reader (my brother), who employed the carrot and the stick as he thought appropriate; and to our mod flyingcarpet, who cut me a lot of slack.

_For a deception to be successful, it should remain secret._

 _The Apophthegms, from The Apocryphal Salazar Slytherin Archive (II:13:27)_

Lucius and Severus moved a little further apart, so that they could more easily see which of them Hermione Granger was glaring at. By now, "screaming at" would be more accurate. It was all too plain that she was distressed as well as offended.

Severus could see the tiny smirk on Lucius's mouth – and so could Hermione, as her next remark showed.

"Laugh, you Slytherin idiot! How will you feel when you find there's not a witch or wizard left in the wide wizarding world – ha! Wide! As if! Horrid little enclave of inbred cretins, stupider with every generation! – to believe you?"

She hadn't grasped, even yet, that belief and truth were all relative, and merely tools. Though some of her insults still had bite.

He didn't mind what she said to Lucius – who deserved insult, if not for this, then for something he had done at another time. They had both meant well. Mostly. Severus had, at least.

He shifted uneasily, and Hermione's gaze focused on him. It was like being in the line of fire of _Avada Kedavra_.

She stood erect, eyes snapping sparks, her hands fisted by her sides (no Molly Weasley hands on hips for her, he was relieved to see). Her hair had come loose, and was snapping real sparks – deep blue ones, like her trademark bluebell flame. Odd, that. Her face was pink (rather than Molly's imminent-apoplexy bright red). He didn't want to think about Molly, not while looking at Hermione, especially when she was tearing strips off his hide. Which seemed to be not so tough as once it had been.

Words drifted past him: "treacherous, kindless villain" – oh, she was quoting now. Shakespeare alone could keep her going for hours. Actually, she had just called Lucius a "whoreson lobster", which had wiped the smirk off his face. Severus didn't think that was Shakespeare. The King James Bible? Severus wasn't exactly well read in Muggle literature. He didn't want to listen to any more home truths; this was starting to be as painful for him as it evidently was for her.

He concentrated on her face, with its hectic flush, and the sweet pink mouth opening and snapping closed. If she became this excited in bed, he might have been in for an interesting time. Would she bite? Sharp teeth she had, though not as noticeable as in her first years at Hogwarts – cunning little vixen, to ensure that Poppy reduced her teeth to what the girl considered appropriate, rather than having her restore them to what they had been. She had been quite right: an improvement. Not that looks mattered much. But unless he could fix the mess that Lucius (and he himself) had made, Severus was unlikely ever to find out.

He really would have liked to see how boldly she could nibble… And how easy it might be to arouse that pretty flush.

Then she snarled, "Damn you, Severus Snape, you're not even listening, are you?"

Like a fool, he started guiltily.

She snarled again, apparently beyond words, then turned on her heel and Disapparated.

Severus swung on his friend. "This is all your fault!"

Lucius raised a single, maddening eyebrow. "Mine? Was it I who thought it too dangerous to tell her what might happen?"

"What _would_ happen," Severus growled.

This time Lucius shrugged. "Your trouble was that you didn't trust her to go on listening to you until she understood her danger. She values honesty," as if that was news, "but you wouldn't give her that. You tried to deceive her into safety." Lucius shook his head sorrowfully. "You're losing your touch. Perhaps Dumbledore was right, and you don't belong in Slytherin at all."

Between his teeth Severus said, "If you hadn't interfered… But what's the use? Nothing is ever Lucius Malfoy's fault, is it?"

***

 _Think first, deceive later._

 _The Apophthegms, from The Apocryphal Salazar Slytherin Archive (II:13:12)_

After the battle, Severus spent some time in St Mungo's. They had managed to fix Arthur Weasley's Nagini bites. They did the same for him after someone noticed his body, potioned into near-hibernation after Potter left, while the antivenin he had also managed to swallow worked its way through his body. St Mungo's better understanding of the problem was balanced by the more vulnerable site Nagini had chosen. It is rather difficult to survive a throat ripped out, even with carefully prepared potions, especially if one must delay to share memories with a boy willing to listen for the first time in seven years.

So it was a good while before Severus was fit to receive visitors. His first, Kingsley Shacklebolt, gravely acknowledged his work and assured him of Wizengamot absolution and Ministry support. Minerva McGonagall was embarrassingly apologetic and struggled with her tears. Potter was incoherent with admiration and only intermittently able to fight down a desire to demand more information about Lily. Hermione Granger showed herself deeply thankful that he lived, as well as that he had been vindicated, and heroically bit back all the questions she undoubtedly had. Horace Slughorn congratulated him on being a true son of Slytherin, and enquired as to his taste in little treats – at least it wouldn't be crystallised pineapple; Sluggy was far too fond of that to share.

Several of his Slytherin seventh years came to thank him for what they now perceived as his care for them, as well as for the wizarding world. A couple came to upbraid him – very briefly, however – for not pointing them towards a wiser and safer path, in his anxiety to ensure Voldemort's destruction. His Auror guard wasn't letting in younger children, or any parents. He could check up on his children later, though. Minerva had assured him of access to Hogwarts, even if he didn't want to go back to teaching. He was still trying to make up his mind about that.

It was all very exhausting. Only before Minerva could he really show how he, in turn, felt; though as Miss Granger continued to visit, usually bringing little comforts the hospital staff had not thought of or had not the resources to provide, he began to relax with her, and even talk, a little.

After the trials were done, Narcissa and Draco came together, to thank him without fuss, and to make offers of any help he might need, either now or later. Draco might have become quite emotional, but Narcissa gently restrained him, for which Severus, still languid with reaction to release from a lifetime of stress, was silently grateful.

Eventually, Lucius came. They had several long talks; by that time Severus could sit up without tiring himself. Lucius told him more than many of his visitors had done, of what had happened in that last painful year. Narcissa hadn't wanted to talk of the invaders of her home, or of her sister's deeds and death, though she was happy to tell him she and Andromeda had been reconciled. Once Lucius was sure Severus would not be distressed by hard details, he became quite explicit, and his discourse was remarkably free of attempts to present himself in the best light. Severus took advantage of this to get some long-standing questions answered, and discovered that Lucius had been a lukewarm follower at best, after Voldemort's disconcerting return. Severus had never been sure: Lucius's attitudes hadn't changed over the time since Lily did for Voldemort, though his actions had strongly suggested a lack of enthusiasm.

Nonetheless, Lucius had his own perspective on things, and it was only by chance that the matter of Bellatrix's wand was raised.

"We knew she'd cursed it, of course – didn't you? To ensure that no Death Eater would try to steal it, knowing that her curse would come down upon him. You weren't living cheek by jowl with us in the Manor; Bella hated being crowded, and didn't at all mind using hexes to get breathing space. She told us, then, that a thief would be punished by her curse on the wand. She was looking at me, naturally." Lucius grimaced. "I learned to stand well clear of her, wandless as I was."

"You, wandless?" Severus asked, sceptical.

"Well, no; I had both my father's and my grandfather's – which liked me better than that of my sire. But I could hardly use them, could I? I had to leave them hidden away. Voldemort wanted to see me –" Lucius broke off, and Severus could read, "humiliated", before Lucius muttered, "broken. I didn't dare use a wand to sustain myself; I had to let myself slide further into the mire with each day, to entertain him. At least Narcissa knew I wasn't actually made impotent, whatever our master pleased to think."

Severus returned the conversation to Bellatrix. "You said Potter snatched her wand? But the night of the assault on Hogwarts she was certainly armed."

Lucius shrugged. "What pureblood family doesn't have a reservoir of wands? She drew on it before, after the Dark Lord released her and the others from Azkaban. Potter seems to have had enough wands at his command, though, not to need to use hers, and risk the curse, if someone told him of it."

Severus asked sharply, "Someone who made free with her wand had to know it was cursed?"

"She hardly expected _Potter_ to have the chance to take it. She was concerned about her allies, Severus, not her enemies."

Severus lifted a hand for silence, thinking back to his visitors. Potter had his own wand, having used Dumbledore's to repair it as no other could have done. He had returned Draco's. Miss Granger had used a different wand, but that wasn't surprising. Her own must have been taken, and probably destroyed, by the Snatchers who brought Potter and his friends to Malfoy Manor just before Potter brought the whole Death Eater cause down in ruins. No one else had lost a wand, that he knew of, save Lucius and Potter and his companions.

But Miss Granger had impersonated Bellatrix in Gringotts, she had told him, to get access to one of the last of Voldemort's horcruxes. With a sinking heart, he remembered that she had touched her sleeve, smiling ruefully. Why in Merlin's name had he not recognised the damned wand with which she had fluffed his pillows, poured him cold water, stripped back too-heavy bedding? Why had no one warned him not to steal Bella's wand? Because they knew damned well he wouldn't let his own be lost, of course.

"Lucius." His tone was firm enough to catch his friend's attention. "Are you looking for rehabilitation?"

"Yes," Lucius answered tersely, "but what has my wretched sister-in-law to do with that?"

"Warn Miss Granger, then. _She_ is the one who 'stole' Bella's wand. Get her to replace it, before Bella's curse, whatever it is, strikes home."

For just a moment Lucius's mouth hung open, before he said briskly, "She'll believe me, I'm sure. Why should she? Anyone but a fool would see an attempt to disadvantage her, from a man who's tried to kill her at least once. She visits you? You'll have to tell her."

Severus tried to get more information about Bellatrix's curse, uneasily sure there would be no opportunity for escape between its revelation and its activation. Lucius knew no more, unfortunately. Bellatrix's threats had been grisly, but not specific. They agreed, however, that Bellatrix would have been careful to allow no chance to escape the curse.

It would probably be best if Hermione Granger's current wand were destroyed before anyone said anything about curses. He doubted if he could compass that, even if she did now seem his partisan. Indeed, she had been ready to trust his goodwill at least until he had killed Dumbledore – if not after. Telling anyone else, encouraging them to confiscate her wand and destroy it, just created the possibility that carelessness might bring the curse down on her, just by telling her about it. He couldn't have that. Especially since she had been the one, he had discovered recently, who had come looking for him in the Shack, to give him decent burial, and instead found signs of life. Severus Snape paid his debts. Besides, he was starting to like the young woman, and how many people were there whose company he took pleasure in? No, great care was needed.

Slytherin care.

There was no need to tell her. He just had to get her wand off her, use his own to destroy it, and hastily explain himself, before she called on wandless magic to avenge the theft. Fool that he was, to have encouraged her to practise. On the other hand, she had been practising assiduously already, from what she had said. She, if not Potter, was more than willing to learn from experience.

Damn. This wasn't going to be easy.

***

 _With truth, a Slytherin may seduce a Ravenclaw, inspire a Hufflepuff, or deceive a Gryffindor._

 _The Apophthegms, from The Apocryphal Salazar Slytherin Archive (II:13:51)_

Severus considered several possible ways of getting her wand away from her without being killed. He was not likely to be successful, trying to snatch it from her hand when she next performed some small service for him. Failure at the first attempt was not to be contemplated; there would be no second chance.

Courtship might answer. After circling around that idea uneasily for some time, he admitted to himself that courtship was acceptable to him for itself as well as for its benefits.

He cringed at the thought that she might laugh, or pull back in disgust. Looking astonished would be quite as bad, in a different way.

But he could lead into it cautiously.

Or he could be bold, and assume that her readiness to touch him (however delicately) was significant. And that she would prefer a man to a boy. And prefer someone who enjoyed using his mind, to someone who hadn't risen above his hormonal soup yet, and had seldom shown signs of original thought. A better match for her.

Put like that, it seemed as if he would be in with more than a chance.

At her next visit, he waited until she put her hand on his, almost without noticing she had done it, as their discussion of revised Hogwarts curricula became more intense. While he was very interested in improvements to History of Magic (since Cuthbert Binns had realised, in the course of the last battle, that he was no longer alive, and abruptly disappeared), he was far more conscious of her small hand resting briefly on the back of his. He moved his left hand over, unobtrusively, and clasped her fingers. His hand seemed to swallow hers.

She was still for a moment, then her fingers met his, clasping more firmly than he had done. His hand tightened convulsively, then, and he met her gaze, wide and welcoming. And her tentative smile, growing stronger. She shifted in her chair, then moved to the side of the bed, her other hand lifting to touch his cheek. Her fingers stroked down, then one finger trailed across his mouth. He realised that he too was smiling.

This was more than a chance. This was certainty.

He reached out and drew her closer, down, so that her chest touched his: soft and firm together. He drew his breath in deeply, and felt her breasts press more firmly against him. That was… He could get used to that. She pushed closer, then wriggled so that she lay on the bed, against him, with only the sheet between them. Then her mouth met his. Oh, yes.

Severus forgot entirely that he was supposed to be planning to separate her from her wand.

When they were both breathless, and Severus at least was still a little dizzy with surprise, Hermione wriggled again, and tugged at the sheet. Reluctantly he eased his hold on her so that she could it pull it free. Then she was back, insinuating herself between his legs, pressing against his erection, and kissing him dizzier still.

In a small pause for breath, thought returned. He didn't want to have her for the first time in a hospital room where anyone might walk in at any time, and she probably felt the same: they had to stop, to draw back, to allow the heat they had created to cool.

At last their excitement transformed to languid pleasure. She was still wrapped around him, her mouth gentle against his throat. His fingers combed her wild curls, and stroked down her shoulders, as he discovered that tenderness was an intimate joy, and one that he wanted. He waited for his body to recognise that there would be other times, and it could relax now into the pleasure of assurance of later joys, of comfort in her closeness, without the drive towards completion. There was even pleasure in holding off, and Severus wondered briefly whether he was enjoying having to wait, before he dismissed the idea: there would be a right time, and this was not it, but this time had its own delights to savour.

Eventually she moved away slightly, and he let her go so that she could sit up, and then withdraw to her chair again. Her smile this time was not at all tentative, as she tried to smooth her tangled curls.

When she drew the black wand from her sleeve and concentrated, her hair became neat and orderly once more, the wild locks plaiting themselves into the soft crown she had worn when she entered his room. She asked a question that confirmed for him that she was indeed committed to him.

"When are you going to be able to get out of here, Severus?"

She hadn't asked to use his first name; he had never offered it; but her assumption that it was now appropriate to use it made him use hers, in return, to offer her the same assurance.

"Hermione, if you can get Wally Derwent to be more precise than 'I'm sure you'll be able to fend for yourself soon', I'd be pleased to know what you find! 'Soon' is as good as it gets."

She nibbled on her lip, and for a moment he was distracted, wishing to do it in her stead.

"Hogwarts is reopening soon, too – mid-September, the Headmistress says."

He had known she was planning to return to the school for the accelerated final year course that so many seventh-year students – excluded Muggleborns, and harried pureblood and halfblood students – would be taking. Griselda Marchbanks, speaking for the Ministry, had announced that those students who had missed or who had to repeat the final year might take their examinations in February of the next year, rather than in May with the students coming up from sixth year.

If she was at Hogwarts, whether he took Minerva's invitation to return to teaching or not, they could not be lovers. Not until she was an acknowledged adult, and there could be no appearance of an illicit teacher-student relationship. He had taught her for six years; whether he taught her for a seventh or not, the possibility of his exerting undue influence on her would remain, in the eyes of the wizarding world, if not in their own.

"Damn," she said, clearly thinking the same as he was. She added, "I'm living at Grimmauld Place with Harry, too, until school starts."

It was unlikely that she would be any more willing to couple there than he was, however respectful Potter was now.

She didn't mention her former home with her parents. He knew she had gone to Australia to try to restore the memories she had stripped from them, and abruptly returned, distressed by failure, but at least with the consolation that her parents were content and fulfilled in their new life in their new country. That former home was rented out now, and would probably be sold; he doubted if she wanted ever to enter it again, after she had put her parents' possessions, and her own, in storage, for review at some time when she could admit to herself that she no longer had a family.

Just now, her family was Harry Potter, and perhaps the Weasleys. And perhaps not, if she had drawn back from the relationship she had been developing with their youngest son. Ron Weasley disliked him still, he had gathered, and was inclined to quarrel with both of his friends about their new approval of Severus Snape the hated Potions Master. Molly, after all, was inclined to be irrational in her judgement of people she saw as having treated any member of her family in a way she disapproved of.

Damn indeed.

But Hermione was very young, though legally an adult in both of her worlds. Waiting wouldn't hurt either of them.

Then he remembered the accursed wand.

He could not risk her returning with it to Hogwarts, when Draco would be there too, would recognise his aunt's wand, and would know of and would probably tell her about the curse Bellatrix had put on it.

This had to be resolved before Hogwarts started up again.

Severus didn't want to make Hermione angry, or to shake her trust in him. So he needed to find a better way to save her from the wand than to snatch it. Courtship had its own limitations, if he was now reluctant to distress her.

"That wand you're using: isn't it Bellatrix's? How well do you get on with it?"

She grimaced. "I can force it into cooperation, but I can never do magic lightly with it, or without thinking."

"Not necessarily an entirely bad thing," he pointed out dryly, remembering the stress of dealing with hundreds of hormonal, impatient and inadequately trained children, each of them armed with a deadly weapon.

"No," she smiled ruefully at the same thought.

"Perhaps before Hogwarts reopens, you should get yourself a new wand. One suited to your magic. You need to have the best tool, before you go back to study."

Wryly she replied, "I should, if I could afford it. I have to be very careful with money, Severus. Harry's offered to pay for a new wand for me, but I don't want to ask him for that. He offered for Ron, too. He lost his as well, when we were dragged off to Malfoy Manor. Ron didn't want him to do that either, but he'll let George cover the cost, because Ron, the idiot! isn't going back to finish school. He's going to be helping George in the shop, and George says he isn't having a partner with a dodgy wand picked up from the nearest Death Eater anywhere near the stock in the shop. So he's okay. Harry keeps trying to talk me into it, but I can make this one work, so –"

"That's not good enough," Severus interrupted firmly, automatically the teacher, confronted with a student welfare issue. "Potter's your friend; you can always pay him back later, if you don't want to take the gift." As a young person, Severus himself would have resisted such a gift, from however good a friend, out of poverty's pride, but he wasn't going to encourage her to be as stupid.

Perhaps he ought to think about taking the gifts friends offered, himself, now that his new life was shaping up without either Voldemort or Dumbledore to control him.

He didn't manage to talk her into it, but he could sense her resistance weakening. That was one advantage of his inconvenient teacher status, if he could influence her more strongly than a friend. So he would keep up the pressure.

Perhaps she was still thinking of privacy for them to explore each other further, when she asked, "When you are able to leave St Mungo's, Severus, where will you go? Spinners End?"

The last time he had seen his parents' house had been for a day in the Easter vacation, when he had taken some of his most precious books there, and warded the house still more against possible post-war retaliation from whoever won, on the grounds that he might, after all, survive.

It had looked every year of its age, and showed the neglect of about as many years as he had lived. Eileen Snape, brought up a witch, had never become a very successful Muggle housewife. He himself, using it only for two months a year, had ignored the lifetime's grime. He wasn't going to ask Hermione to join him there. Not until it was a lot cleaner. Which he was probably not going to be in condition to ensure, immediately after his release from this bed. Perhaps he would ask Narcissa for a favour: the loan of one or more house-elves to clean it up, and do repairs. Narcissa was definitely conscious of owing him a debt; Severus wasn't at all sure that Lucius felt like that, given his mild complaints about Severus's long deception.

Until that could be done, he would probably have to accept Lucius's invitation to stay at Malfoy Manor. That had been an offer free of obligation, Lucius had delicately made clear. (Which in turn suggested that Lucius did in fact want him there. Possibly to repair his relationship with Draco, who didn't have his father's understanding of the necessities of a double spy.)

There was plenty of room at the Manor, and Severus could have as much privacy as he liked. However, he could just see Hermione willing to be inside the house, never mind share his bed there. Her memories of the scene Lucius had described, where Bellatrix tortured her for vindictive pleasure as much as for information, would keep her away. One of Lucius and Narcissa's priorities, though, was to wipe all trace of Voldemort and his followers from their home. Perhaps when that was done, Severus could suggest Hermione might visit, to see for herself that some of her memories, too, had been washed away.

It didn't matter a great deal, just now, except for Hermione's ease of mind. He had already decided to wait half a year for her. Then both of them could be sure that Hermione wasn't influenced by her last year's traumatic experiences, any more than by his former position of authority over her.

It was going to be a long six months. But necessary. And Severus Snape still bowed to necessity, no matter what his personal wishes might be.

He realised he still hadn't answered her. "To Malfoy Manor; Lucius and Narcissa have both invited me to recuperate there."

She didn't look happy at that, but she didn't complain, either. She too acknowledged necessity.

A week later, Healer Derwent said Severus might leave St Mungo's in two or three days' time, provided he didn't live alone, and took care of himself, and did not try to push himself back to normal levels of activity at once. Severus listened to the lecture, and made note of the specific recommendations and prohibitions. He had every reason, besides his own long-term comfort, to ensure he recovered fully.

Lucius and Narcissa confirmed they were ready to receive him. Lucius would Side-along Apparate him to their home.

Hermione proved to have been thinking about alternatives to seeing him there.

"London is too far for you to Apparate for a while, isn't it?" she asked.

He nodded agreement.

"But Portsmouth – it's not right on top of Wiltshire, but it's a lot closer."

He said doubtfully, "It's a big city, and I think has no wizarding quarter."

"No. But do you know Lee-on-the-Solent? It's a sort of seaside resort town, quite small, at one end of the only road down from the M27, at the top of the Solent, across from Portsmouth. Muggles find it annoying to drive there in all the traffic – my parents certainly did, the time we went there for a week's holiday, when I was ten. But it's not a problem for witches and wizards. It does seem to have wizarding inhabitants: it has Floo service. We could use that."

"Is the Floo public or private? I'd rather not be noticed, going to and fro."

She wrinkled her eyebrows at him.

He muttered in exasperation, "The things Hogwarts _still_ doesn't teach Muggleborns and halfbloods, even though a quarter of wizarding children, almost, are not wizard-raised, now." He went on, "There aren't many public Floos: the Ministry, St Mungo's. There are Floos in most wizarding homes, of course. The one in The Leaky is semi-public, subsidised by the Ministry. Tom isn't allowed to charge for its use, or for the Floo powder; the Ministry provides the powder, and expects the added traffic to give him enough extra customers that it's worth his while to maintain it. Most Floos people use to get around are like that, in shops or other businesses."

Clearly, she hadn't known that, and muttered vexedly under her breath, as he had.

"That explains the place I remember in Lee," she added. "It was part second-hand bookshop, and part café. The tea was excellent – so were the little cakes and scones! And the book stocks were much better than in the Oxfam shop, just up the road. So we went there several times. And I noticed, though my parents didn't seem to, that a lot of slightly odd people seemed to come into the shop, or come out of it, without stopping for either morning tea or to rummage through the books."

"Ah. Some coming, some going; but not the same people."

"Yes. I worked out later, when I knew about Floos, that it must have had a Floo at the back of the bookshop part. We could use that. I looked the details up at the Ministry: it's Oddbody's Cuppa Books." She added hopefully, "Lee is pretty quiet. The town centre is small, but it has a long beach – sand, not pebbles – with nothing but little boats drawn up until the weekend, or people walking their dogs, or just sitting on the sand looking at the waves or over to the Isle of Wight."

Walking on the beach with Hermione, with summer nearly at an end, might be very pleasant, and they would have privacy. No one to observe them, probably, once they were away from the centre of the town.

He encouraged her to tell him more about what she remembered of Lee-on-the-Solent, and wondered how she would find it, now that she was an accomplished witch, rather than a child with untrained magic she was not aware of.

If it rained, that bookshop café could be useful.

***

 _Deceit is kinder than honesty. If one wishes to be kind. It is also swifter._

 _The Apophthegms, from The Apocryphal Salazar Slytherin Archive (II:13:39)_

Narcissa had had the public rooms on the ground floor of Malfoy Manor not just redecorated, but rearranged; it was like being in a different house entirely. She was currently enjoying herself with light supervision of the two house-elves who were scrubbing Spinners End down to the bare bones. They had been joined by one from Hogwarts, who told her that he had served Master Severus for all his time as a teacher there.

"Pinky?" he asked.

"That was the name," Narcissa agreed. She looked at him sideways. "He mentioned plans to continue serving you, whether you returned to Hogwarts or not."

"Then I suppose I have a house-elf," he answered wryly. "They're not easily put off, though they can be bargained with."

"It's a rare compliment, that an elf would leave his current service for another master," she reproved.

He wondered that she could bear to say so, given that Dobby had abandoned the Malfoys for Potter, but did not remind her. That had, after all, been Lucius's doing, not hers; no daughter of the Blacks would be as rough with a house-elf as Lucius in a temper used to be. "I always found Pinky a sensible elf, and careful of my belongings and my work," was all he said.

"But," Narcissa said firmly, "you can't go back there yet."

"I suppose the floor coverings will need to be replaced." Doing the house up properly would be expensive, but he had the savings of many years' teaching, which he had had little occasion to use. No doubt Hermione would be patient if he couldn't get it all done at once.

"And the wall coverings. They've stripped the lot, plastered and repainted, repaired some stairs and replaced some floorboards. They will probably be asking you to select wallpapers and carpets soon." She added, "You don't have to have linoleum in the kitchen, as your father did."

"It will be cheaper, though."

"Pinky seems to have access to some house-elf source of paints and furniture – because most of yours is kindling now, Severus – so you can probably manage decent flooring."

Severus wondered if that source was Narcissa's purse, and decided that if she planned to be generous he wouldn't question it: a gift delivered without acknowledgement need not be regarded by the receiver as needing to be reciprocated.

"I shall be glad to have more than the book room and the workroom pleasant, as well as convenient," he agreed. "Now that I can receive friends and other visitors, without concern that they would report to Voldemort."

"You may find the potions workroom in the cellar much changed," she warned. "Pinky didn't think it good enough."

Severus repressed a sigh. It was true that house-elves tended to be thorough. Pinky would not consider that Severus had used that workroom rarely, and never for truly complex potions, but would try to bring it up to the standard of Severus's workroom and classroom at Hogwarts.

Then Narcissa smiled at him. "Visitors?" she asked invitingly.

He supposed he had to tell her about Hermione sometime before his future lover arrived at the Manor. His explanation ended with quiet laughter from her, and a promise of discretion that he didn't believe for a minute. He might be a halfblood, but his pureblood friends would certainly wish to inspect any Muggleborn lover he was serious about. Also, if his relationship with Hermione developed as he hoped, he would prefer it if she and the Malfoys could each of them reconcile themselves to the others. It wasn't comfortable, if one's friends had no more than bare toleration for each other; he had been there before, and didn't wish to go there again.

Just before Hogwarts reopened, Hermione finally agreed to come to Malfoy Manor.

When she arrived, he met her, by arrangement, at the front gate. The gate moaned a little, but it let her in without protest or resistance.

Hermione stood close to him as she looked at the Manor gate warily, so he reassured her. "Lucius has reset many of the wardings on the property, though most on the house remain – those that are legal. A Ministry team, from Mysteries, no less, inspected them a month ago, to be sure that none of the vicious wards against Muggles and Muggleborns that used to be so common still remain. They see nothing against mere Muggle–Repelling Charms, naturally."

"Not on this house alone?"

"Certainly they're inspecting all houses of families known to have Death Eater sympathies, if not membership. Whether they'll check on the houses of all purebloods, though, I doubt, unless there's a specific complaint."

He did not need to add, "So be careful."

He did say, " _Now_ may I kiss you?"

She exclaimed softly, and floated into his arms, as eager as he.

They were strolling through Narcissa's rose garden when Lucius appeared. He greeted Hermione civilly, and she responded calmly, without any visible tremor. Severus was surprised when Lucius formally apologised for the way she had been treated on her previous visit to his house. He had thought Lucius might prefer to ignore that episode.

Hermione acknowledged the apology, and even added, "Without a wand you couldn't have stopped Mrs Lestrange anyway."

Lucius coughed. "I had a wand, though not on me: I couldn't use it without risking having it, too, confiscated and broken. But we were quarrelling – not just she and I – about whether Potter was, indeed, Potter, and how the Dark Lord would react if he was summoned, and it proved we were wrong. You were the victim of Bellatrix's anxiety, and my apprehension, as much as of our need to be sure." He added, "I do not say so to my wife, but her sister was never fully sane, after fifteen years in Azkaban."

"Neither, I think, was their cousin Sirius," Hermione answered quietly, "though he controlled it better. But I'm told your wife and Mrs Tonks are reconciled, now? It must make Mrs Malfoy happy, to have one sister, at least, who is comfortable to be with."

So Hermione was saying, as delicately as she could, that some at least of the Black family still had their right minds. Not as delicately as a Slytherin might, but if she stayed with him she would improve with practice.

Lucius acknowledged the effort by responding, "Andromeda's grandson is quite an attraction, also. Our son is glad to have a cousin, however much younger, as well as an aunt he had never met before this summer.

"But you and Severus were looking at my wife's roses. Let me show you the latest, which afforded her some distraction last year." He added, "It's a Muggle-bred rose, but Narcissa admires the efforts of people like this grower – David something – to breed modern roses with the characteristics of the old ones: scent, and lush flowering, but also repeat flowering, which the old ones did not."

That too was a discreet gesture towards reconciliation, and Hermione took it as such, murmuring, "David Austin? Yes, I'd like to see that."

Lucius led the way through a pergola still heavily draped with small pink climbing roses to a circle of garden beds. One quadrant of the circle was filled with deep pink roses, the next with white, then apricot pink, then cream roses, all of them with large cup-shaped heads tightly packed with petals, all gloriously scented. Severus didn't especially care for roses, or any flower, but he inhaled the scents with pleasure.

"Ah!" Hermione made straight for the pink ones, saying, "Gertrude Jekyll, yes? My father had that one."

Severus was glad the reminder of her lost parents did not dissuade Hermione from considering Lucius's overture.

Lucius let Hermione sniff the roses, and touch one bud lightly, before he offered, "Why not cut some to take home with you, then? You can place a Preservation Charm on them, and a house-elf will bring them to you before you leave."

"Thank you! But don't you want to cut them?"

"Choose for yourself." Lucius waved a hand at the rose bushes, offering them up to her.

Hermione took the black wand from her sleeve and cut one rose from the nearest bush, then selected a second, careful to ensure the display was not spoiled. Severus watched her, rather than Lucius, as she chose a third flower.

So neither he nor Hermione saw Lucius lift his wand and aim it at her. He did see the effect of the split second spell that froze her for just long enough, but only afterwards remembered that. What he saw at the time was Bellatrix's wand flying from Hermione's hand to Lucius's feet, where it was at once enveloped in a stasis bubble.

Hermione dropped her roses and screamed, rounding on Lucius, who calmly replaced his wand in its sheath.

"You _Malfoy_!"

"That's hardly fair to my wife, or indeed to my son," Lucius responded blandly. "I mean you no harm, Miss Granger. But that wand is dangerous. You need to be rid of it."

Severus relaxed. This was Malfoy treachery, yes, but only aimed at the goal Severus had pursued unavailingly for over two months.

Severus moved closer to Lucius, and murmured, "Is it safe like that?"

"It should be."

Hermione's incredulous eyes met his, and filled with tears, before she dashed them back and snarled at both of them, relieving her frustration. Her insults were ingenious and varied, and she spared him no more than Lucius, understanding clearly that if Severus wasn't complicit in the theft of her wand, he was ready to accept it.

Her temper seemed to become higher and fiercer, rather than be calmed by that outlet.

When she Apparated away, there were three roses on the ground, and a wand partly obscured by the semi-translucent bubble that surrounded it.

Severus took a deep breath and relieved his own feelings, more briefly than Hermione had done.

Then he asked, "What will you do with the dammed thing? Destroy it, I hope?"

"I certainly don't plan to keep it!" Then Lucius smirked. "I think I'll take it to Kingsley Shacklebolt. It might do me some good with our new Ministry if I turn in a Death Eater wand which will curse anyone who dares to use it. Then he can have the fun of destroying it."

"And of taking the risks involved in doing so, perhaps," Severus commented.

"That too," Lucius agreed. "If he has any sense he'll give it to Mysteries to dispose of – rather than to the Aurors! – and charge them not to keep it to play with. But that will be his concern."

"Very good. But I suggest you Apparate up to the Ministry _now_ , and see Shacklebolt before Hermione does."

"She will certainly complain to someone," Lucius agreed, cheerfully unconcerned at the prospect. "You, my friend, need to find her and explain why I took her wand. And ask her," he smirked more widely, "why she didn't mention to you that she had another wand on her person: she could hardly have Apparated wandlessly. I can't; you can't. Perhaps she doesn't trust you as much as you believe, Severus."

With that, Lucius scooped up the protective bubble and Disapparated himself.

Severus swore bitterly, and wondered where Hermione, distressed as well as angry, might be found now.

***

 _Confessing deceit may win forgiveness rather than blame, if the deceiver declares his good intentions. Never forget, however, that forgiveness has two edges, both sharp, before deciding confession is necessary._

 _The Apophthegms, from The Apocryphal Salazar Slytherin Archive (II:13:28)_

She was not at Grimmauld Place. Potter stared at him and said, uselessly, "She was going to see you. Didn't she?"

So she let Potter know of their meetings, whether Potter knew of their intimacy or not.

Potter was visibly relieved – at least for a moment – when Severus replied, "Yes, but we had a difference of opinion."

"She won't be at the Burrow," Potter remarked, "or the shop, either. If she's had a fight with you," clearly he knew what 'difference of opinion' implied, with Hermione, "she won't go to Ron. He'd just bitch at her about staying away from you. Would she go to Hogwarts? We've spent a lot of time there, this summer, helping with the repairs."

Severus rather thought that Hermione wouldn't wish to discuss their falling out with any one.

Perhaps he would find her at Lee-on-the-Solent.

He nodded to Potter, saying, "I think I know," turning on his heel to leave.

He just heard Potter's wry, "Good luck, Snape."

It was more tiring than he had imagined it would be, Apparating from London as far as west of Portsmouth. Severus felt obliged to lean on the steps down to the beach, which of a weekday provided adequate privacy for Apparation. He recovered soon enough, and started walking in the direction they usually took, to the east, where the sands broadened into dunes, sheltering the beach from the view of the houses behind the rough ground at the back.

He didn't bother transforming his clothes to Muggle wear, as they always did in Lee, but walked briskly along in his robes, feeling them flapping behind him in the brisk sea breeze.

He found her, in the end, sitting on a tuft of grass on a slope of one of the small dunes. She looked as if she had been crying, but wasn't doing it now. Severus was relieved to know she wasn't still so upset, but nearly as apprehensive about explaining himself.

He came to a halt in front of her. She looked up. Her face stiffened, and she seemed to draw into herself.

At once he said, "I'm sorry. I didn't ask Lucius to do that. But it seemed you wouldn't replace that cursed wand, so I'm not sorry he made it necessary."

She touched her left sleeve. "Harry dragged me in to Ollivander's yesterday. He said it was all his fault we were captured – he forgot, and said Voldemort's name, so the Snatchers came. That it was only right he should get me a new wand, one that Ollivander was sure suited me, because it was his doing mine was taken. We could have avoided all that kafuffle at the Manor, and gone straight to Gringotts for the Hufflepuff cup Horcrux."

So she could be reasoned with, if one hit on the right argument.

She sighed. "True enough. I thought that if I said yes, he might be more inclined to think first, next time."

"You'd need to be lucky," Severus couldn't help saying.

Her smile was very faint, but it was there. "Harry is thinking more. Look how he thinks about you, now. All right, Severus. What's this all about? And why did Lucius Malfoy decide I needed to get a new wand, if you didn't ask him to arrange it?"

He gave her the straight answer, now that she was safe. "Bellatrix put a curse on her wand. It was aimed at discouraging any Death Eater from stealing it from her, rather than at lunatic heroes snatching it from her in something like a fair fight. If you didn't know about the curse, it wouldn't touch you. But if you did know… Lucius told me about it. Draco told me the same story later, when I asked him; he'd been there too, which I wasn't, when Bellatrix told all her closest friends and allies not to touch her wand."

Hermione made a face. "Charming woman."

"Indeed. So I needed to get you to discard the wand, without explaining why: it seemed likely that as soon as you knew, you would be identifying yourself to the wand as its thief, and be punished for it."

"So you decided to save me. Did you have to do it, though, Severus, by pretending to love me?"

Great Merlin, what made her think that was pretence?

She must have read that thought from his expression; he really was becoming very careless around her. Her stiffness eased slightly, and he managed to speak.

"That was no pretence! I did want you, do want you." Very quietly he made himself say, "Do _love_ you."

She relaxed more, hearing that.

"I'm waiting for you, however long it takes. I hope that you'll come to me, next year, when you're done with school and are legally and in every way acknowledged an adult witch, able to decide what you want. What can I swear it by? What will you believe, from a Slytherin?"

"I'll take your word," she said.

The release from tension was staggering. He went down on his knees before her, in the sand, and held out his hands to her. "Forgive me, then?"

She took his hands. "I don't need to forgive _you_. Mr Malfoy, that's a different matter. I'm not used to former Death Eaters meaning well."

She tugged lightly on his hands. "I'll come to you, Severus, if you'll come to me. Why should we wait?"

He let himself be pulled down beside her, and took her in his arms, looking down into her honey-brown eyes, her honey-sweet smile.

"I'd prefer we wait," he said, after a silent time full of kisses and caresses. "It would be good if you could make one decision in your life without pressure."

She laughed, eased and carefree. "Loving you isn't pressure? But if you'd be more comfortable… You need to get away from pressure too. So, after I've done my NEWTs, then?"

He just managed to say, before he leaned down for another kiss, "It will probably take at least that long before I have a home to offer you, not a hovel."

Later again he said, "It seems likely the home will come with a house-elf, Hermione. You'll need to get used to that."

"I've learned a bit more about house-elves since fifth year," she said wryly. "But do we need to think about domestic matters now?"

"No need in the world," he answered promptly, "if you'll lie down with me here. If it's not too cold for you."

"You'll keep me warm. And I'll keep you warm."

She embraced him more closely still, and her kiss punctuated her promise.

However, emotional warmth was, soon enough, no substitute for physical warmth, even when Severus created a shallow dip in the back of the dune and they lined it with their robes, reinforced with warming charms.

Hermione wailed softly, without moving away from him, "I'm cold! But there _is_ nowhere else!"

"There'll be blankets and cushions enough in the Muggle houses lining Marine Parade, behind the seafront; we can put them back, afterwards," Severus pointed out, shifting to sit up.

"Let me!"

He nodded, indulging her wish to test her control over her new wand. That tempestuous Disapparation had slammed her into the front door of Grimmauld Place, before she turned again and fled to Lee, she had told him. This wand did not need anything like the intensity she had had to use to force Bellatrix's into compliance.

She spoke the spell aloud, and he felt fond amusement at her showing off a neat variation on _Accio_ which would collect coverings for them from unused rooms only.

The half dozen blankets and shawls and lap-rugs that arrived were promising; but the shower of cushions made Severus blink. Many seemed to be made from shiny satin, ornamented with sequins, or glass jewellery, and the bright colours would blind any normal person even before the decorations dug holes in their bodies.

Hermione made an impatient sound that was just like Minerva's expressive Scottish snort crossed with a grump, and sent the useless cushions back to their homes.

"Front parlour, not for use," she said, and tried again with an extempore complication of her spell. The Latin in this one was slightly shaky, but it worked.

They retrieved their robes and created a nest of cushions and blankets and bolsters. Hermione snuggled down into it, and Severus admired her half-clad form before he joined her, pulling two colourful blankets over them.

"That's better!" Hermione wriggled pleasingly as he settled beside her, enjoying the new warmth as much as his nearness. "Now, where were we?"

A little Gryffindor disingenuousness did not come amiss, Severus decided, as he put his hand on her shoulder, hoping it was not cold. He slid it down over smooth flesh and scarred flesh alike, before edging aside the top of the Muggle bra she wore.

"Here?"

She arched her back, so that her breast pressed into his hand, and he could feel her nipple hardening at the contact with his palm.

"Something like that," she agreed, a little breathlessly, then gasped as he took the nipple between finger and thumb, rolling it, making it tighten further.

He shifted to the other nipple, but brought his mouth to the one that would otherwise have been neglected, ensuring it did not cool down and soften. Hermione whimpered, and her hands fastened in his hair, holding him fiercely close. Severus eased his knee between her thighs; she opened for him at once, and he sank down on her, as far as he could with his head still bent to her breast, licking now, rather than suckling.

Her hips moved, helping him to lie cock to belly, and rub against her, feeling himself harden further, feeling the heat at the apex of her thighs intensifying. She lifted to wrap her legs around his hips, before she released his head, so that they could be body to body, skin to skin, save for some obtrusive clothing. Severus put his mouth to her throat and began to lick and then nibble the tender flesh there, exploring to find the most sensitive spots.

Her fingers tracing the rim of one of his ears were extraordinarily distracting, and he was forced to gasp, "Don't, Hermione!"

He was sorry, all the same, when she obeyed him, and instead started combing through his hair, massaging his scalp with her fingertips, pushing back the heavy curtain that fell around his face and onto her chin and throat and shoulders. Her hips continued to move gently under him, however restricted in their movement by his weight, until she concentrated on seeing how she could fold him into the cradle of her hips by tightening the embrace of her legs, ending with her ankles crossed and one heel digging into his back just above his arse. How delightful to have a lover slender and agile enough to do that with little strain! He tried to reward her dedication with his hands and mouth, and felt as much as heard her murmurs of satisfaction, though the sharp little gasps of need unsatisfied were increasing.

His desire to finish this made him aware that she was becoming restless under him; she too needed orgasm more than intimacy, now. Her hands pushing into his clothing, seeking him out, increased the pressure.

When she found him, and one of her hands wrapped around him, he moaned, then pulled sharply up and away from her, though he did not elude her grasp completely.

He soothed her bewildered murmur with a swift kiss, then gasped, "We can't. Not yet, not yet, Hermione…"

"We can't?" then, on a rising note, "We bloody well will! If you're mad enough to want to wait _now_ –"

He managed to laugh briefly at her determination, at once hurting with the awareness that he should not have her, even though she was utterly ignoring their agreement not to become lovers yet, and pleased with her confidence that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

"Not yet," he repeated. "Hogwarts, Hermione. You're a student, still. I can't be your lover and your teacher, we both know that!"

"Fuck the wizarding world and its busybody prudishness," she answered crisply, but she released him and untangled herself from him, sitting up, pulling blankets around her. She was, after all, a good deal nearer complete nakedness than he was, even now.

Did it hurt more that she was agreeing with him, however reluctantly, or please him more that she was willing to yield to his desire to behave appropriately? It was clear that for two pins she would continue as they had been, and seize her climax and his own, save for her wish for him to be content.

Those promised climaxes were receding rapidly. Still, they need not be lost entirely.

"We can still have a taste," he assured her.

"I want the whole feast, not a mere foretaste!"

Oh, he loved her reckless determination, her commitment, her assertiveness – her demand for the pleasure he had led her to expect.

"Lie down and let me finish it for you," he urged.

She looked doubtful, but obligingly did settle into their warm nest again.

He remembered, abruptly, that neither had yet used a contraceptive charm, and shuddered at the possible consequences. He could imagine Minerva's response now. For that matter, Hermione would almost certainly be none too pleased to be pregnant before she was twenty. That thought withered his erection faster than the cold sneaking through his shirt and braies.

Ah well, one problem solved. It was not as if he wasn't used to doing without; and she had given him a great deal to think of and to remember, in loving detail.

He wouldn't remind her about their lapse of responsibility now, though. Let her, at least, have the fulfilment of this moment.

He lay down beside her, embracing her, kissing and caressing, making sure that she was as warmed and ready as before. When she began to move less smoothly in his arms, reaching greedily for more, he slipped one hand between her thighs, moving her clothing aside. She helped him at once, eagerly, pulling the vestigial Muggle briefs off completely, rather than just pushing them aside, as he would have done. He had a quick, fascinating glimpse of slim legs waving in the air, as she tugged the pants off her feet and tossed them aside, before she was pressed up against him again, taking his hand and replacing it in her soft, moist warmth.

It was delightful, experimenting to find what moved her gently, and what profoundly excited her. She did seem to know, and was bold to show him what she wanted. She let him discover, too, how to tease her, though she struggled against his free hand holding her down with a firm pressure on one hip. When she was almost too difficult to restrain, and whimpering needily, he hooked two fingers inside her, reaching up, searching out that private place, feeling her almost instant response, before his thumb flicked and pressed on her clit. She shuddered, and abruptly came, almost silent, but not holding back the soft cooing sounds of her pleasure. He felt her tightening around his fingers, gripping so hard he couldn't continue. Only when she relaxed at last, and the internal shudders quietened, did he withdraw his hand, waiting until her eyes opened and fixed on him before he licked his fingers, elaborately.

"Oh," she whispered. "Severus."

She didn't seem able to say more, and he was pleased, yet again, to have made her nearly wordless.

After a little while she reached for him, but he caught her hand and held it away.

When she protested, he assured her, "I have the promise of you, Hermione. That will sustain me, until we can be together indeed, openly, freely."

He managed to smile. She was open to him now; he was free to come to her, if he would, even if they both chose to refrain.

"You are worth the waiting for."

"And you," she confirmed, taking his hand. "And you, Severus."

 

*** The End ***

 _Honesty is for Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs; Deceit takes planning and intelligence, and requires a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw._

 _The Apophthegms, from The Apocryphal Salazar Slytherin Archive (II:13:1)_

**Author's Note:**

> I must confess that "whoreson lobster" would be © Ben Jonson if he were still with us.


End file.
